Stay With Me
by EstrellaQueAdmiro
Summary: Sam Winchester has been committed to a psychiatric hospital for a crime he didn't commit. He's alone, scared and ready to give up, until he meets Castiel Novak, a new nurse, and everything starts to change... Warning: Themes of suicide and self harm throughout.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this new fic I have planned. Be warned, this fic will feature suicide and self harm throughout. Proceed with caution if this affects you!**

"Sam! _Sam!"_

Sam opened his eyes to find the room consumed by flames, his girlfriend, Jessica, shaking him desperately. It was happening again. No, it couldn't be. He'd dreamt this would happen, it came to him in his nightmares. The room burning, Jess eaten up by the fire. He thought it was just throwbacks to _then_ , mixing with the present to form a horrifying nightmare. But it was happening, _right now. Maybe he could stop it all from coming true._

He grabbed her and pulled her from the room, but once he was out of the room, she wasn't there. She was trapped. The door was open, there was nothing in her way, but she couldn't get out.

"Sam, don't leave me, please!" Jess cried, and he tried with all his strength to get her out, but then she was pulled away from him, thrown and pinned to the wall. It was happening again. After fourteen years it was happening again. No, no, not now. Not her. Not again.

He ran back into the room, the invisible barrier apparently permeable to him, trying to catch her and get her to safety, but a wild flame hit him straight in the face, sending him to the floor. It was too late anyway. She was already burning, already screaming, her nightdress alight.

"Sam!" she screamed, but he could do nothing. She was dragged to the ceiling and burst into flames completely, and Sam could only watch, screaming himself.

He woke up in hospital, a patch on his face covering a burn, as well as large burns on his leg and chest, handcuffed to the bed and a cop outside his room. His doctor was there, Dr Gould, the one who'd seen him when he was eight years old, the first time. And he didn't look happy to see him.

"I'd hoped we wouldn't see each other like this, Sam," he said solemnly. He looked disappointed. Were shrinks even meant to look that way? Who knows. Sam knew there was no point in trying to defend himself, they didn't believe him when he was a kid, they wouldn't believe him now. But he could certainly try.

"It wasn't me," he said firmly, but his hysteria grew, "It wasn't. I couldn't get her out…something was stopping her from getting out, she was pinned to the ceiling! I couldn't get her out, I couldn't get her out. Jess!"

"Sam, Sam," Dr Gould put his hand on Sam's shoulder, "Remember the breathing I taught you?"

"You don't believe me, no one believes me," Sam pushed him away in frustration, "You want to lock me up again!"

"I don't want to, Sam, you know I don't. But we have no choice. You're not well, Sam. We thought you had recovered from the first incident. You were doing so well. But it's happened again and we can't give you another chance, we can't risk more getting killed or hurt," the older man shook his head, "I'm sorry."

"I didn't kill her! I didn't! Something else started the fire! I woke up and it was already there! I'm not lying!" Sam cried desperately, "Don't take me back there!"

"You were found unconscious with a lighter in your hand, Sam, there was a knife on the floor. The autopsy on your girlfriend showed she had a laceration across her stomach," Dr Gould sighed, "It's worse than the first time. A lot worse."

"But I never…I didn't!" Sam begged, "I swear."

"They found something else," Dr Gould ran a hand through his hair, "Jessica was pregnant."

"W-what?" Sam stuttered, the news crushing him with unbearable weight, "I didn't…I didn't…you think…"

"I don't know what to think, Sam. I really don't," Dr. Gould said, "I thought you were better. You'd adjusted so well to your foster home, hell, you made it into Stanford University! You were my best success story. And now here we are."

"I would never kill Jess, just like I'd never kill _him_!" Sam protested, "I loved her! I was going to…I was going to propose today."

He looked at the pile of stuff they'd managed to save from the fire, his chest clenching at the sight of the ring box among the items.

"And now she's dead. Did you get scared when she told you? Scared your child would be like you?" the doctor pressed, "Did your fear take over?"

"I didn't know! I swear I didn't know!" Sam was crying now, "She hadn't told me…God, she hadn't told me yet…"

Dr Gould deemed Sam unfit to stand trial, leaving him doomed to a psychiatric hospital for the rest of his life. Before he was transferred, Jessica's parents visited him. He could barely look at them, he was as heartbroken as they were but of course they wouldn't see it that way. In their eyes, he was their daughter's killer. How could be possibly be hurting as much as them?

"Why, Sam?" Jess' mother was crying, "Why her? We thought you loved her, you were both so happy."

"I didn't do it, I swear. You have to believe me!" Sam looked at them, begging, "I loved her! I'd never hurt her!"

"We liked you, Sam. We thought you were so polite, so good for Jess. She thought the world of you!" Jess' father shook his head, tearful, "And to think you even asked me for her hand in marriage."

"He _what_?" Jess' mother said in disbelief, "You…you're a monster! You're sick, you're sick in the head!"

She shook him violently, in hysterics, "Why?! Why would you kill her?!"

Sam cried helplessly, "I didn't! I promise I didn't!"

Jess' father pulled his wife away gently, pulling her to his chest, "She didn't deserve this. And to think you…your own _child_."

"She didn't deserve it. I wish I could have protected her, stopped this all from happening. I didn't do it, I didn't do it," Sam looked up at them in desperation, "I'd never hurt my Jess."

"Don't you _dare_ call her yours!" Jess' mother snapped, "She should have stayed well away from you!"

They left not long after that, and Sam of course got absolutely nowhere in trying to convince them. He felt helpless, he had no one left. He only had Jess, and their friends, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't want anything to do with him now. He was on his own in this once again.

Jess' parents weren't happy, in fact they criticised every single person involved in the decision to let Sam be fostered, and allow him to go to Stanford without at least some supervision. But everyone who had worked Sam's case was baffled, he'd recovered so well, and his assessments every year never showed any areas of concern. Something in him had just snapped, they concluded. No one could have known. But he was happy at Stanford. He told them so. He felt he belonged somewhere for the first time in his life, he wasn't judged, he was able to study anything he wanted and he could finally be completely free to live like everyone else. They were saddened. Things had been going great for Sam Winchester, what went wrong?

The journey to the psychiatric hospital was long, way too long. He watched his old life, his good life slip away. He wasn't even allowed to attend Jessica's funeral. Sam just wanted to say goodbye, he just wanted to tell her how sorry he was that it turned out this way. He wanted her to know it wasn't him, he didn't know who or what it was, but he didn't do it. He'd never hurt her.

Sam hoped the car would never arrive, he hoped they'd just keep driving. Maybe they'd take a wrong turn and end up off a cliff. Maybe an animal would run into the road and they'd drive into a tree. He could take control of the car and swerve it off the road, but if he survived they'd only lock him up even quicker. It was no use, this was his life now.

His room was far worse than his room at the first hospital. At least the first one was a children's psychiatric unit, it had some colour and a little more warmth. This room was overwhelmingly clinical, all white, cold and unwelcoming. Better start getting used to it. He changed into what would be his permanent attire, white scrubs, reluctantly. At least he matched the theme of the room now. He was left alone and locked in, leaving him to lie down on his bed and cry away the pain. This was it now. No future, no chance of getting out, even with good behaviour. No more Jessica, no more law school. He was meant to have that Stanford Law interview, Sam wondered what they told them. It was all gone. No hope. What was the point of living anymore, what could possibly be done in this place to make his life worthwhile? He wished he'd been swallowed up by the fire instead of Jess. At least she could find someone else, someone better, and live life just like she deserved it.

Sam missed her. He missed Jess more than anything. He'd miss waking up beside her every morning, cuddling her close to him. He'd miss coming back to find a plate of freshly baked cookies on the kitchen table, he'd miss her laugh, her smile, the way she looked at him. He'd miss their date nights, their trips to the movies, their vacations to Disneyland and her parents' holiday home. She was gone now. No more happiness, no more future.

They let him settle and get some rest, but he couldn't sleep. He laid awake, that night replaying over again. Both nights. Both nights were morphing into one another. _His_ screams, _her_ screams. They tormented his mind, leaving him curled in a ball under his sheets, covering his ears desperately to block out the sound to no avail. The memories plagued him ever since the first night, still as vivid as ever, even fourteen years on. But now it was worse, now there were more memories. Memories of Jess going through the same fate.

"Good morning, Sam," a male doctor, similar looking to Dr Gould, "I'm Dr Gray. I'll be overseeing your treatment and monitoring your progress."

Sam said nothing, he was laid on his side, his back to him.

"Sam?"

Nothing.

"Sam, we want you to start counselling again," Dr Gray moved so he could see him, "It helped you last time, I was told. We'll see where we go from there."

Sam avoided his gaze, staring at the floor.

"Now, Sam, you can't stay quiet like this," the doctor sighed in exasperation, "Do you want to get better?"

Get better? There was nothing to get better from. He wasn't crazy, just no one believed what he saw. What was the point? Everything he'd say would be twisted to be considered insane. He could recover completely in their eyes and yet he'd still never leave this place. As far as they saw, he murdered his girlfriend in a brutal manner. He was never getting out. He'd never know freedom again.

Dr Gray left him alone after getting nowhere, only for Sam to be disturbed later when he was given his meds. Or, they tried to give him his meds. He completely refused, turning his head away, still not uttering a word. Until they forced them into him, taking him by surprise so he almost choked. Sam coughed and tried to fight the nurse and his back up off, but they were done. He'd taken his meds, mission accomplished.

It wasn't too long after his meds were forced down his throat that he started to feel strange. He couldn't move, not easily anyway, his arms were stuck and shaking uncontrollably. Sam felt frozen, helpless, he couldn't escape his curled up position, not without difficulty. He was hitting himself, not voluntarily, he just couldn't stop the shaking in his hands. How could he live like this? How could anyone expect anyone to live this this? He was left to rot in this place, and he wasn't even allowed to feel at least a little normal. He had to get out.

Uncomfortable, struggling to change position and unable to sleep, Sam stayed where he was for hours, until the effects slowly wore off and he could move again with much more ease. He'd been left food just an hour ago, but he wouldn't touch it. He didn't see the point in much anymore.

"Sam?" Dr Gray entered his room again. Could he catch a break? He was only just starting to feel a little normal again. As usual, he gave no answer.

"Sam, I think you should join me in going to group," he said calmly, "Many of our residents find it helpful to share their feelings with others."

Sam didn't move. He wasn't going anywhere, he didn't want to go anywhere near the other residents. He didn't belong among them, the genuine murderers, the real criminally insane. He didn't need them judging him, targeting him. Memories of the child psych ward still haunted him. The bullying, the shoving, the hitting. One of the kids managed the incredible feat of finding Sam's file, telling everyone about that night. He got pushed to the limit, to the extent that he lashed out and broke the ringleader's nose. He was put in isolation for a week, and he never did it again. If it was bad there, it would be worse here.

"You need to be more cooperative," Dr Gray said disapprovingly, "C'mon. You might like some change of scenery."

"No," Sam finally spoke.

"No?" Dr Gray sighed, "Sam, group is going to start soon. Let's just get out of bed and go. You might enjoy it."

" _No,_ " Sam was getting more agitated.

Dr Gray left the room, to Sam's relief. Maybe he finally got the message. That was, until, security came into the room to try and escort him. Something in Sam really did snap this time. He didn't know what came over him. In a burst of rage he fought against them, punching one in the face and shoving the other away. The first guard's nose was bleeding. Had he broken someone's nose again? Way to leave a trademark. Mess with Sam Winchester, leave with a free broken nose.

He was wrestled to the ground before being forced back onto his bed and restrained. He was sedated and left to calm down. Guess he wouldn't be going to group today.

Numb, afraid of his own actions and seeming to be finally able to get some sleep, Sam slowly closed his eyes and waited to lose consciousness.

 **Thanks for reading! Please leave me a review, let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel was running late. Why did it have to be on his first day? He'd never been late to _anything_ before. So much for making a good impression.

He was so stressed about his tardiness that he forgot to be nervous. This was his first job, he was surprised he even got it, he had no idea what to expect. But he just wanted to help people, now he could finally do that. He hoped.

The place certainly looked intimidating, especially all the security he had to get through before he could even park. It wasn't until he got out of his car that it all became real.

"First day?" someone called over from a car near his. She was young, dark hair pulled back and looking a lot more excited than he felt. And Castiel just stared.

"I'll…take that as a yes?" the girl smirked. He finally snapped out of it and nodded, forcing a smile, "It's okay, I was nervous too. I started a couple days ago."

"You did?"

"Yeah…not for the fainthearted but I'm enjoying it," she shrugged, "No offence, you've got that deer-in-headlights look. Should probably drop that."

Castiel frowned, "Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime. I'm Meg, by the way. Meg Masters."

"Castiel," he nodded.

"Unusual name," Meg raised an eyebrow, "Can I call you Cas?"

"I guess," Castiel looked towards the entrance, "I'm already late."

"Ouch. Yeah, get in there," Meg beckoned him to follow, "It's okay, they'll go easy on you. I think."

Surprisingly they _did_ go easy on him. The staff, that is. They didn't seem to care about his late arrival, they just sent him to complete some paperwork. But then he was thrown out on his own, sent to bring lunch to the patients.

"Who've ya got?" Meg took his list from him, "Oh, they really have gone easy on you. Some of those guys will heckle, especially because you're new. But they're harmless. Maybe you'll get a sandwich thrown at you though. They like to make things interesting."

She studied the list a couple more seconds, "Ah. I see they've given you the new boy."

"New boy?"

"Yeah, real cute, youngest in this place. No one told me what's wrong with him, but no one can get through to him. Won't talk, won't take his meds, won't eat. Guess they want to give you a challenge," Meg shrugged, "Good luck with that one."

"Uh…thank you?" Castiel frowned, "Where do I pick up the food?"

Meg took him over to the kitchen and accompanied him to his first patient before she had to get back to her own work.

"Hello," Castiel said awkwardly as he entered the first room, faltering as the middle-aged man looked up at him sharply, "I…uh…I have your lunch."

"I can see that," the man muttered.

"I'm Castiel. I've just…"

"I don't care. Castiel? What kind of fucked up name is that?" the man stood up, "Just give me the crap and get out."

"Sure…okay," Castiel placed the tray on his table, "Enjoy."

He experienced the same, more or less, with the rest of his patients. As predicted, he actually had _two_ sandwiches thrown at him. He gave up on the small talk after he realised it wasn't going down well. At long last he reached his final patient on the list. The new boy, Sam Winchester.

Castiel found Sam standing looking out the window, his expression sad and hopeless. He almost looked too young to be in this place, too innocent. Castiel wasn't even sure why he was there, he didn't look as if he should be.

"Hello, Sam," Castiel said quietly, "I'm Castiel."

Something about him made him feel he could talk to him, he just seemed afraid more than angry. Castiel had no idea what he'd been through, but he just wanted to help him.

Sam flinched, glancing quickly at the new nurse and going back to his bed. He drew his knees up to his chest and curled in on himself, unable to meet Castiel's eyes. The patient was tall, which only emphasised how thin he was. He had dark circles under his eyes, he just looked drained, lifeless. He'd given up, and it saddened Castiel.

"It's okay. You don't have to stay on your bed all day," Castiel smiled at him. The patient looked up at him and shrugged.

"What's the point?" he muttered almost silently. Castiel wasn't sure how to answer, picking up his tray. He was more surprised that Sam had even spoken, than anything. All the staff that had seen his name on the list had made remarks, sarcastically wishing Castiel luck in getting Sam to talk.

"I've got your…"

"Don't bother," Sam narrowed his eyes.

"You should eat something, Sam," Castiel said calmly, "Maybe you'll feel better."

"Feel better?" Sam glared at him, "I'm _never_ getting out of here, everyone thinks I'm crazy. How can I ever feel better?"

"I'm…I'm sorry," Castiel sighed, curious about Sam's past but knowing it wasn't the best idea to ask.

"Sure you are," Sam shook his head, "I'm sure you're so sorry when you get home to your family, you get home and you're so sorry that I'm stuck in here for something I didn't even do."

He clenched his fists, tears trickling down his cheeks, "Go fuck yourself."

Sam's voice cracked, and all Castiel could do was leave his tray on the bedside table and leave him alone.

"How's it going?" Meg found Castiel in the breakroom.

"Fine. Great," Castiel shrugged.

"Any sandwiches?"

"Two," Castiel chuckled.

"And Sam? Managed to crack him?" Meg smirked.

"He talked to me, if that's what you mean," Castiel sighed.

"Wow. Well, you've done better than most of us here. He's normally just lying on his bed saying nothing. Sometimes he's shaking, crying. It's odd," Meg shrugged.

"He's unhappy," Castiel picked at his food, he didn't have much of an appetite.

"Well, yeah. That room has his name on it until he kicks it. I wouldn't exactly be celebrating either."

"What happened to him?" Castiel frowned.

"Now that's classified," Meg leaned back in her seat, "Sorry, they haven't told me either."

"Whatever it is, he insists he didn't do it," he ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know, he doesn't seem like he belongs here."

"Easy there, tiger. Leave the diagnoses to the shrinks. We're here to help these guys, bring them their meds, food, take them to group, maybe be a shoulder to cry on if they really want to, though clearly that's a rare occasion. If they want him in here, they want him in here, and you thinking he looks like a stand-up citizen isn't gonna change that."

Castiel was a little taken aback but couldn't argue. He just felt guilty for upsetting Sam like that, reducing him to tears. It was never his intention. Maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut like he had with most of the other patients.

Sam had given up and it felt like everyone else had as well. They didn't bother trying to get him to go to group, or to the day room. None of them really bothered talking to him when bringing him his food or meds. He refused to eat, besides on occasion when his hunger was even too much to bear for him. He refused his meds, several times trying to conceal them so he'd be marked as having taken them, but was often caught out and forced to take them. The side-effects never got better, meaning he was left helpless, stuck and shaking every single day. It was a living hell, he just wanted out.

His first meeting with Castiel hadn't been a pleasant one, but Sam preferred him over the others. He was new, he clearly had no idea what he was doing but he at least tried. He'd caught Sam at a time when he'd managed to get out of bed, just to look outside but still something. Sam retreated back to his bed, a little embarrassed in a way that he'd been seen doing something other than lying in bed. Castiel had tried to put him at ease, tried to talk to him like he was a _person_ , not just another name on a list, or another "crazy" as he'd heard someone say as they'd left his room. He'd overshared a little, letting his bottled up emotions get the better of him, which bewildered Castiel but Sam could see how much he wanted to help. And how had he responded? With a "go fuck yourself". Sam wasn't exactly proud of that.

The fact that Sam had actually responded to Castiel had pleased his doctor, and so the new nurse was often assigned to tend to him. The first day he brought him his meds he didn't even refuse, he just held out his hand without even looking at him. He felt bad for Castiel, he just seemed way out of his depth. Sam was sure the other patients were eating him alive for that very reason, he didn't need to add to that. His intentions were in the right place, and Sam liked that. Not everyone was so nice. Sam reluctantly swallowed the pills, washed down with water, and tried to make himself comfortable before his muscles started to freeze up. It was never comfortable, but trying didn't hurt. Castiel gave him a sympathetic smile and said nothing, leaving the room and moving on.

Castiel was sent back not long after to attempt to persuade Sam to leave his room, even if just to stretch his legs a little. He'd been lying on that bed almost the entire time since he'd arrived, and he really needed to get out for a bit.

"Sam?" Castiel said quietly as he entered the room, only to find him curled up and crying, his body shaking. He approached slowly, a little concerned, "Are you alright?"

"M-make…make it stop," Sam's voice was slow, but desperate, "Please."

"What's wrong? Sam?" Castiel put a hand on Sam's shoulder reassuringly, "Should I get a doctor?"

"N-no," Sam let out a sob, "Please. Please."

"What can I do?" the nurse hated how useless he sounded.

"Stay," Sam looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading, "Stay."

"Alright. I'm right here," Castiel reached and took his hand, "I'll stay right here."

Sam clutched at his hand as tightly as he could, his hand still shaking violently. He cried forlornly, tired of the same ordeal every single day. He'd only been in this place for just over a week and he couldn't handle it, how was he supposed to last? Castiel stroked his hair in an attempt to sooth him, and Sam shifted so he was closer to him. He was so different to the other nurses, Sam felt like he actually cared. Hell, he felt safe. He kept hold of Castiel's hand, a little more relaxed, and slowly fell asleep.


End file.
